Wolves Among Us(71)

Stefan nodded at Dame Alice and took a deep breath.

“Open the doors.”

The women and Stefan ran from the jail, startling people in the square. Shock froze their faces. Not one of them would move in time to stop them. His legs pounded the earth, making the world shake in his vision as he ran with Mia in his arms.

Stefan could see Erick move to the doors from the window where he had been standing as soon as he saw Stefan and the women running. He threw the doors open. They made it to the steps before the townspeople could get their bearings and attempt to detain the group. Stefan was last to enter the church. He stumbled across the threshold, collapsing onto the floor near Mia. Erick slammed the doors on the approaching crowd. Stefan had seen how the men were furious. They gnashed their teeth and called down curses.

Stefan scanned the women, counting quickly. They had all made it, every last one. He looked up at Erick and began laughing as tears welled up in his eyes. Mia reached up for Stefan’s face, turning him to look at her.

“Why are you so happy?”

Stefan smiled, peace flooding through his soul faster than the adrenaline could drown it. He exhaled and softened his grip on her.

“This is a sanctuary, Mia. Once inside the church, the law has no more power over you. You are safe from condemnation. You will not die.”

The women looked at each other, reaching for each other’s hands, embracing, weeping. Erick bowed his head in prayer, and Stefan gave thanks as he sighed, trying to catch his breath.

Stefan waited for Erick to lift his head before speaking.

“There is a story. I found it in a book.” Stefan smirked, catching himself still afraid to admit that one secret. “I have a Bible. One of the forbidden ones. A Tyndale.”

“You never told me,” Erick said.

“A man left it here, long ago. I never found out his name.”

Stefan saw Mia trying to sit up and listen.

“There is a story about a grain of wheat, a seed of what could become a harvest, food for many hungry people. But it was only a seed when our story opens. The seed must choose between life and death. Is it better to remain whole and avoid death? Or is it better to allow the farmer to cast it to the ground, to force it under the earth, where it will be subject to heat, and flood, and the pain of its hard outer shell splitting?”

Erick frowned. “The answer depends on who is listening to the story. If someone is hungry, they want a harvest.”

Stefan nodded and wiped his brow. Although the room was cold, heat was creeping up from his chest, making his cheeks burn. “And the seed has no reason to desire its own death. Unless it desires a harvest that others will eat more than its own life.”

Erick shook his head. “I do not understand.”

“Neither did I. You will, in time. But run now, and bring Alma to Mia. We still have work to do.”

Erick brought Alma from the cellar, where he had hidden her. Alma ran for her mother at once, kissing her face and stroking her hair while Mia tried to hold back her sobs.

Stefan could not watch without tearing up himself, and he needed a clear mind. Looking at the plain window of the church, he saw the gray sky pressed down in a long, single layer over the last of the afternoon’s white clouds, streaming pink rays to the earth below. Stefan looked out the window from inside the church, grateful now he had never had the prestige and money to afford stained glass treatments for every window. He only had one stained glass window, and he had not been thankful for even that back then.

He wondered what color the sky had been in Gethsemane, what Jesus thought as He looked up. Jesus knew what hid behind the dull, gray clouds of earth. Jesus knew the splendor of a raging sun. Stefan wondered if that made Gethsemane harder, or easier, to bear.

He returned to caring for the women. Erick stayed near his side, diligent in his attentions, not minding the stains that smeared across his clothes, the sweat that rose along his hairline as he lifted the weak to help them drink. Stefan realized then that Erick had always known the Shepherd’s secret. He watched as Erick continued, carrying water for washing faces, fetching vinegar for the wounds. He tore apart his linen belt, using it to hold up Mary’s arm, which looked broken.

His tenderness surprised Stefan. He had never taught him that, never done that himself. But he was grateful. Erick had been listening for God all those long years while Stefan slept. Erick had grown into more than a man. He had become a shepherd. The thought brought Stefan another outpouring of peace.

Mia nuzzled Alma with her cheek, clearly thankful Erick had washed her face. She still couldn’t move her arms. Alma looked up at Stefan, a curious expression on her face. She did not look afraid, though her mother was in pain and had been abused, though angry villagers waited outside the church. Alma just smiled at the image of Jesus in a painting hanging from a wall near the altar. Alma looked at it as if it was a holy relic, a shy awe on her little face.

“The women are hungry,” Erick told him. “What should we feed them?”

“Give them what we have with us. Do not go to the dormitory for fresh supplies. Do not leave them again.”

“We have nothing left, save the bread and wine for the Sacrament.”

“There must be something else. Check in the cupboards.”

“Already did.”

“Ah, Lord,” Stefan muttered. “I had hoped you would make this easier on me.” He could preserve his proper office or give life.